Hello, Sweetie
by Outakurebecca
Summary: John gets a visit from his future (married) self.
1. Chapter 1

**A fill for this prompt on the livejournal Sherlock Kink Meme:**

**I have a craving for some humor as well as time travel fic.**

John from the future, somehow, goes back in time to slap around his younger self and tell him that he's not actually as straight as he thinks he is and to get with the program you idiot.

bonus points if he's married but doesn't say to who.

John breathed deeply. It was so good to be in London again. He hadn't had the chance to return as often as he liked now that he was retired. Well, in the future when he was retired. John Watson was not only traveling back to the place where his life began, but the time as well.

The beginning of his life was ironically around the time when he was fresh from the greatest threat of death he had experienced. He still had the scar in his old age, but the ridges of raised skin on his shoulder were not as prevalent anymore. The start of his life had nothing to do with his physical being. It had everything to do with Sherlock Holmes.

John from the future, called Jawn to avoid confusion, was taking a walk through time to straighten some things out.

Hm. "Straighten" probably wasn't the best choice of words.

Jawn still had his keys to the flat, so he let himself in to 221B. The decency to knock at the top of the stairs did not escape him, though.

"Come in, Mrs. Hudson," a bored voice said within the flat. Some awkward position of the sofa, judging by the strain in his tone.

"Not Mrs. Hudson!" Jawn called through the door.

"Don't be ridiculous, John," Sherlock was sitting up now, his sound had changed angles. "Everyone else rings the bell. Except Mycroft. The cake-munching sod simply walks in."

"Were you saying something, Sherlock?" John from the present tense entered the sitting room. There was a pause as Sherlock processed the dual source of John's voice.

"There's someone at the door, John," Sherlock said. Jawn could already picture his fingers steepled like we're when he came across something perplexing.

"You called me for that?" John strode to the door. "You were much closer, honestly, I don't-"

John didn't finish his thought, it died in his throat when he saw... himself on the other side of the door.

"Hello," Jawn said brightly. "Should I invite myself in? Or you could. It's all the same to me." He smiled.

John's pupils did a strange dance in his head. He closed his eyes, gave his head a shake, and, when he saw that the oddity before had not vanished like it was supposed to, turned to his favorite chair and proceeded to curl up in it.

"Are you still Dr. Watson?" Sherlock asked from the sofa.

"Why do you ask?" Jawn returned.

Sherlock stood, adjusted his collar of his shirt, and laid out his logic. It was rather nostalgic for Jawn. "You are wearing a wedding band. There are no traces of lipstick or perfume about your person, but you have a quarter-shaped bruise at the base of your neck. You have seen your lover recently, but that person does not wear cosmetics. Your clothes are fairly new and your watch is not cheap. The lack of cosmetics is not from necessity, suggesting a male companion. Did you take his name when you married, or keep your own?"

"Now wait a minute-" John sat at attention in his chair.

"I love it when you deduce me like that," Jawn spoke over him. "And yes, we both kept our names."

"Just who are you?" John still looked confused.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Isn't it obvious, John? He's an older you."

"That's right," Jawn confirmed. "Come closer if you don't believe me."

John did so, stepping cautiously. "Bloody hell, it is me," he said after a minute, taking in the greys mixed with his blond, the continued awful taste in jumpers and the lines on his face that he saw on himself every morning.

Jawn beamed. "Now that that's settled," he handed a camera to Sherlock, "I'd like to get a picture with myself. For the husband, if you don't mind."

Sherlock looked rather amused. "A paradox. How not dull."

"As long as it doesn't rip a hole in time and space," John muttered, shuffling to stand next to his counterpart.

Jawn chuckled and waited until Sherlock was ready. At the last moment, he reached for John's chin and pulled him into a kiss. A choking sound came from Sherlock's direction, followed by many shutter clicks. John blanched and struggled, but Jawn kept him in place with a hand on the back of his neck. When the aura of Sherlock's amusement faded into annoyance, Jawn gave a final nip to his lower lip, just the way his husband often kissed him, and drew back. John looked absolutely horrified.

"Dare from my other half," Jawn shrugged, his wedding band glinting in the light of the flat. "Hope it wasn't too bad for you." He winked.

"I'm not gay!" John protested. His face was red and his arm shook slightly as he wiped his mouth.

Jawn sighed. "That's what I'm here to convince you otherwise."


	2. Chapter 2

"You'd best listen to him, John," Sherlock suggested. He had a faint smile, but the lines by his eyes were tight. He positioned himself between Jawn and John when he returned the camera, feeling a little protective of his present-day blogger.

"I'm. Not. Gay," John insisted.

"Ever been in love before, John?" Jawn asked rhetorically.

"Sure," John answered, ready to list of the names of his longest-lasting girlfriends.

"No," Jawn flicked his younger self in the forehead, having to reach around Sherlock to do so. Both John and Sherlock reacted with varied amounts of irk. "Like you had such a good time on a date that you wanted it to last forever."

John opened his mouth, closed it, and pondered. "Most of them get interrupted," he said slowly. Sherlock looked a little smug.

"Exactly," Jawn continued. "Knowing you, and I know you quite well, the best girlfriends were the ones that didn't insist on dragging the night on. Concise. Lounging around in mutual company is more of your style, isn't it?"

"That's a big part of marriage," John defended.

"I'm not disagreeing with you," Jawn smiled, memories flicked by behind his eyes, but he didn't allow himself to be distracted. "The day-to-day can be brilliant."

Sherlock stiffened at the word. "Who is your spouse, Dr. Watson?" he asked.

Jawn turned the question on his younger self. "Who indeed? Any ideas?"

"How could I know?" John stammered. "I'm single, I may not have met them yet!"

"Describe them," Jawn said simply.

John did his best not to cringe under the weight of their eyes. He was determined to prove that he knew himself better than someone twenty-plus years away. "They'd be... there for me. But not overbearing. They'd be funny, considerate, maybe do their own laundry once in a while." He shot Sherlock a look. The detective rolled his eyes.

"And?" Jawn prompted. "What couldn't you live without?"

"Danger," Sherlock answered for him. "You were being slow," he said in response to John's peeved expression.

"Yes, I like excitement," John admitted. "Does that make me gay?"

Jawn laughed. "Not really. The point is that there are so many other factors besides gender. Would you care for an experiment?" Sherlock's eyes brightened instantly.


	3. This is such a frivolous story

"Let me show you something," Jawn said, pulling a cleanly creased piece of paper from his pocket. He unfolded it carefully, then held it out for John to take.

John gave him a calculating look before turning his attention to the photo. It was in sepia, and not the edited in kind. The paper it was printed on was modern, though, so it must be a scan of an old photo.

"Mid twentieth century," Sherlock deduced, looking on over John's shoulder. John jumped a bit at his flatmate's voice so close to his ear, but continued examining the picture.

The focus of the photo was a girl; short hair, nice clothes. She leaned on the rail of a bridge overlooking a shallow stream. John recognized it from a park not far outside of London. It was much cleaner in the picture than it was now, all made more picturesque by the girl's genuine smile.

"What do you think?" Jawn prompted.

"She's pretty," John replied tersely. "Is this part of the experiment?" He handed the print back.

"Oh no," Jawn chuckled. "Just thought you'd like to see Mrs. Hudson from back in the day."

"That's...!" John snatched back the picture. He saw the resemblance now. She might have even worn that same skirt recently.

"Found that when we were- yes, well," Jawn stopped abruptly. The two others looked up from the photo.

"Say," Jawn continued, his casual tone as fake and strained as Sherlock smiling for ordinary people. "Have you met The Woman yet?" Judging by their blank stares, they hadn't. "I see," he said. "Farther back than I thought." His fingers toyed fitfully with the hem of his jumper.

"The experiment, Dr. Watson," Sherlock reminded Jawn. If it was out of impatience or worry over the sudden flash-forward, it was difficult to say.

"Right," said Jawn. "How to put this delicately? Don't knock it till you try it. Yeah, that's about good."

"What are you talking about," John said, his tone flat.

Sherlock gave him a stare. "You know what, don't be daft."

"So you'll help, then, Sherlock?" Jawn asked.

Sherlock's eyebrows scrunched together, then repelled each other very fast. "Oh," he said.

John waited for an explanation. "So? What's the hypothesis? Variables? Any information I'm allowed to know?"

"There's not much to know," Sherlock spoke. "Just one trial." He started making calculations in his head. Height difference, trajectory...

"Honestly," John exhaled. "I don't know why-"

It seemed he was getting a lot of surprise kisses today.

At least this one wasn't with himself. Sherlock's lips moved faintly, brushing against John's unbelievably soft and cautious. It lasted a matter of seconds. Sherlock pulled away, leaving John slightly miffed because he should have been the first to break the contact, dammit.

Jawn looked rather smug.


	4. Bear with me

"I'll leave you to compile the data on your own," Jawn gave John a pat on the back.

"Wait," John sputtered. "You can't-"

"Sorry," Jawn answered, hand already on the door nob. "I've caused enough paradoxes for one visit. I don't think we'll meet again. Ta!" He left with a quick backwards wave.

"No, that's not-"

"John," said Sherlock. "Let him go."

Even if he was a meddling prat, Jawn was still his future self, John thought, his eyes following the path of departure as Sherlock held him back. There was still so much-

"John," Sherlock said again. "He's just gone to Mrs. Hudson's flat. It's fine." He gave John an incredulous look, like he should at least be able to count the footsteps on the stairs to see if their time traveling guest really was gone.

"I suppose," John sighed. He looked pointedly at where Sherlock was still holding his arm to keep him from pursuing his older self. It was dropped immediately.

Both of them stood, hovering in the silence. John wanted to move, to do something, but he felt as if there were road blocks on all sides of him. Sherlock looked equally antsy, as antsy as he could be while maintaining a neutral expression and no fidgeting whatsoever. Only John could pick out the slight darting movement of his eyes, searching out traces of information before the real event took place.

John's shoulders slumped. "'Inconclusive' wouldn't be a proper answer, would it?" he said at last.

"That's up to you," Sherlock said his deep baritone. It might be the most considerate thing his flatmate had ever said to him.

"For one thing," John continued, wetting his lips. "I don't think you accurately represent the male population."

"The vast majority of them are idiots, so obviously," Sherlock noted as if it were a logical progression of thoughts. It probably was, actually.

John continued, ignoring the interruption. "So don't expect me to go on a rampage of dating men just because-"

"Because what, John?" said Sherlock.

"Because... of today," John said lamely, averting his eyes from his flatmate. Sherlock nodded. Outside the flat, a set of feet descended the remainder of the stairs. The door to 221B opened and closed, removing the barriers so the two residents could resume their previous lives. In a sense, nothing had changed.


	5. Epilogue

A pleasant rain pattered on the roof of the cottage. It was an excellent accompaniment to Sharlock's at-home violin concert of the day. Gladstone was enjoying it, anyway. It was apparent by the tempo of his bobbing tail matching the rhythm of the piece.

An extra percussion part made an entrance when Jawn fumbled with and dropped his keys outside, cursing as he stooped to pluck them from a puddle on the front step. Sharlock signed and made his way to the door, not missing a note. Gladstone's droopy eyebrows wrinkled up when Sharlock nudged the door open with his foot, an impressive kick for his age. The wood of the door connecting with the railing outside marked the end to the movement, perfectly coinciding with a triumphant final chord on Sharlock's part.

"It's open," Sharlock stated. "And you were attempting to use the wrong set of keys anyway. Those are for the flat. Are you sure you aren't going senile?"

Jawn shooed the idea anyway with a wave of his hand, gold band glinting. "Reawakened an old habit," he explained.

"I would ask for details, but I recall I was present the first time around," Sharlock set his violin on the coffee table. Not the same one, they had gone through two or three due to the stress of being walked on by detectives in bathrobes.

"Feel like eating?" Jawn asked, setting a basket on the kitchen table.

"For Mrs. Hudson's biscuits, always," Sharlock replied. He plucked one from under the checked blanket that had kept out most of the rain. He held it in his hands and inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of a sunny London, so long ago, yet fresh from the oven.

"She sends her love," Jawn pulled the photo from his pocket. Scrawled neatly in the margin was a note from the woman herself. Sharlock examined it while nibbling the bready treat.

_Hope you the best in the future, dearie. John wouldn't tell me much, but as I understand it, you don't visit much anymore. You'd be as old as me by then, and I can put two and two together._

_You'd best be taking care of yourself. You're retired for goodness sake, get some rest! I image the two of you curled up reading on a lazy Sunday with a dog warming your feet. John showed me a picture of Gladstone, what a darling. And what a relief that you waited until you were out of the flat for the bees. Goodness!_

_I don't know what the rest of the time we'll share, from my perspective, will hold. I'm sure if it's anything like what's past it will be hectic and wonderful._

_Cheers.  
-Martha Hudson  
Still not your housekeeper._

Jawn gave him a squeeze on the shoulder. He hadn't realized how tense he had gotten. He set down the half-eaten biscuit to place a hand on top of Jawn's, identical rings clinking softly.

"There was so much I missed, being dead," Sharlock commented. Jawn shushed him and wrapped his other arm around him as well.

"You did what you had to," Jawn reminded him, looking up and catching his eye.

"I know."

"Of corse you do," Jawn pulled him over to the couch where they were quickly joined by Gladstone. There wasn't a fire going, Sharlock still opted for Bunsen Burners over fireplaces, but Jawn liked to think that Mrs. Hudson would have approved all the same. "For what we have, I wouldn't change a thing," he decided. Sharlock clasped their hands to together in agreement.

** Fin.**

**Thanks for reading!**


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